A TRUCK bomb explodes in New York’s World Trade Centre, killing six people and injuring 1,000. Tony Kushner’s play "Angels in America" debuts, bringing stories about homosexuality and AIDS into the cultural mainstream. Nirvana, The Cranberries and Dr Dre rule the music charts. The dead body of a kidnapped two-year-old named James Bulger is discovered in Liverpool, England. Bill Clinton is inaugurated as America's president in Washington, DC. This all took place in 1993—a pivotal year, according to the New Museum in New York, where a new exhibition called “NYC 1993: Experimental Jet Set, Trash and No Star” runs until May 26th. (The show's name comes from a Sonic Youth album that was recorded that year.)

But why 1993? The curators could easily have selected 1998, the year when Rob Pruitt exhibited a buffet of cocaine in the city’s Meatpacking District, or 1996, when Larry Gagosian unveiled Damien Hirst’s first big exhibition to New York audiences. For that matter, why not consider the entire decade?
“As we started doing research we discovered that ‘93 was a touchstone flashpoint year, and it also happened to be 20 years ago,” explains Jenny Moore, the museum’s associate curator. “So instead of doing a show about the ‘90s, we decided we would focus on one particular year, and within that focus on artwork that was only made or exhibited in New York in 1993.”

The art world in New York 20 years ago was indeed a different time. Globalisation was on the rise, granting artists an increasingly international reach. And the work that was produced and displayed had become more politicised and confrontational than in years past. Artists were not afraid to tackle controversial issues like poverty, sexuality, the AIDS crisis, class and race. Félix González-Torres, a Cuban-born American artist, had his first show in 1993 at the Andrea Rosen Gallery before dying three years later from AIDS-related complications. The Whitney Biennial that year introduced fresh and politically charged works to wider audiences, with pieces by artists such as Matthew Barney, Daniel Joseph Martinez and Sadie Benning. Artists from Los Angeles, such as Paul McCarthy and Jason Rhoades, had their work shown in New York for the first time, which opened the doors to global acclaim. The Museum of Modern Art brought Young British Artists Sarah Lucas and Steven Pippin over, while the Venice Biennale took New York-based artists Janine Antoni, Nari Ward and Andres Serrano to Italy.

The New Museum considers 1993 through a lens of contemporary art, with work from more than 75 artists spread over all five floors of the downtown space, and spilling over into the building next door. Some of the art on view was considered too controversial to be shown at the time, which creates an interesting dynamic, says Ms Moore. One example is a piece called “In the rich man’s house, the only place to spit is in his face” by Daniel Joseph Martinez, which features that very sentence in an Edwardian script on a glass window. The work was rejected by the Whitney for the Biennial, but it hardly raises eyebrows at the New Museum.



The AIDS crisis was far more prevalent in 1993, which artists often addressed in their work. This includes an affecting series of photographs by Nan Goldin called “Gilles and Gotscho”, which chronicles the intimate relationship between an artist and his partner, who died due to complications from AIDS. In one image Gotscho is seen kissing Dusein in the hospital. A photograph by Mr Serrano called “The Morgue” shows an image of two hands resting on a body. Artists helped to give shape to the AIDS epidemic, and forced it into the public eye.

Consumer culture also came in for criticism. The show includes some amusing photographs by the Art Club 2000, a collective of seven art students from Cooper Union, who would purchase matching outfits at the Gap, take group self-portraits in the ensembles and then return them to the store afterwards.
Next door to the museum is an installation by Nari Ward called “Amazing Grace”, which has not be exhibited since 1993. It features more than 300 abandoned prams discovered in Harlem, which Mr Ward strung together with flattened fire hoses; Mahalia Jackson’s soulful rendition of “Amazing Grace” plays in the background. The work stands as social commentary on the violence and poverty that was rampant in Harlem at the time, evoking both the neighbourhood's children and the local homeless people who appropriate prams to cart their possessions.

Other pieces in the show include Annie Leibovitz’s black-and-white photographs of war-torn Sarajevo; Janine Antoni’s 14 busts of her own head made with chocolate or soap, called “Lick and Lather”; Charles Ray’s sculpture of four nude family members holding hands; a collage of scenes from the film “Kids” by Larry Clark; and John Currin’s “Girl in Bed” paintings.

Of all the works, Ms Moore says the one that the curators found the most essential to the show was the two-part untitled black-and-white billboard of a bird against the sky and a string of hanging light bulbs by Mr González-Torres. The work is closely associated with Mr González-Torres's experience with AIDS. The string of lights serves as a metaphor for the process of death (his partner died of complications from AIDS in 1991), while the lone soaring bird on the billboards could have been a symbol of both isolation and hope. “For so many people the way of dealing with those issues, the personal and political, was such a revelation that we knew that piece was essential,” says Ms Moore.
Much has changed in both New York and the art world since 1993. Downtown is no longer the gritty bohemia it once was and globalisation has brought artists and their collectors closer together. This show offers a poignant reminder of a time when art was very much part of the political, cultural and social zeitgeist; a time when artists were unafraid of seeming sincere, and had the power to influence public opinion, or at least influence the conversation.

“NYC 1993: Experimental Jet Set, Trash and No Star” is on view at the New Museum in New York until May 26th 2013